True Courage
by SoNotBiancaDiAngelo
Summary: Tris is a sixteen-year-old diabetic and asthmatic who's father has just moved the family. Again. Four has one dream in life: to have an undefeated wressling season, and possibly get away from his abusive father. As Tris adjusts to her umpteenth school with the help of the gang, Four must learn to adjust to the blonde bombshell who turned his world upside down.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one: Tris

Here I am again. Not that I'll complain; Dad actually got a job with some sort of permanence, but it is kind of annoying starting over again. I've lived in so many places I've lost count; what with my father's military background. But he just returned from his final tour of duty, and is back with my mother, my brother Caleb, and our younger cousin, who also lives with us, Shae.

The reason Shae lives with us is because her mother, Allison, is a Weed addict, and her father, Michael, is a heroin addict, and my parents didn't want Shae growing up in that kind of household.

I pad down the hall to Shae's door, and tiptoe inside. She's sleeping with a blue stuffed dog clutched to her chest, probably to lessen her anxiety. I sit next

to her on the bed, running my fingers through her silky brown hair.

"Morning." she says, opening her big, chocolate brown eyes.

"Morning, sweet girl. Ready for your first day of kindergarten?"

Shae nods eagerly, and jumps out of bed, all traces of anxiety gone. I smile at her; I always seem to know what to say to her.

"Okay, well get ready, and I'll drive you." I say, already heading for the stairs.

Caleb looks like he stuck his finger in an electrical socket. I giggle and point at his hair.

"You **cannot** be thinking about going to your first day of senior year like **that**. You'll embarrass yourself."

Caleb runs his hand through his hair, then gives me a look, as if to say "what's wrong with it?" I roll my eyes before heading over to the sink so I can do a finger-prick. My BG comes back, 202, just slightly out of my normal range, 80-180. I fix a bowl of cereal, do a bolus on my PDM, and sit across can Caleb at the kitchen table.

Caleb's breakfast is considerably healthier than mine, but I guess is kind of ironic, since I'm the diabetic, not him. When I point this out, however, he just says that **he** doesn't want diabetes, and to just let him do his thing. I've given up trying to reason with him.

"Today's your diabetes management meeting, isn't it?" Caleb asks, looking up with interest from the papers scattered across the table. Caleb is such a brain.

"Yeah. Mom and I pretty much decided that all my diabetes care is to be done in the classroom. I do know how to do boluses and stuff for myself, after all."

I take my asthma pills and head up the stairs, hoping to beat out Caleb to the bathroom. I take a quick shower, brush out my hair, and slip into my clothes, a Twenty One Pilots hoodie, jeans, and combat boots. I change my OmniPod, moving the new pod to my left arm. After I'm done with all that, i grab my diabetes kit, and head out to the car, in order to wait for Shae, who emerges in all her kindergartner glory.

I check my BG again before pulling out onto the dark streets. I'm halfway to school when I realize that I forgot my inhaler and my swim bag, which results in me racing back home to grab them.

When I finally get to school, I head into the office to find Johanna, the secretary, whom I'd met last week when I got the tour and decided a faction, shuffling through some papers. When she sees me, she gestures for me to go into a conference room, where my parents, doctors, the nurse, and all my teachers, plus a member of the lunchroom staff await my arrival.

"Sorry." I say, falling into an empty seat. "I had to drop Shae off, and it's kind of a drive from the elementary school to here."

"That's okay." the principal, Mr. Lovelace says, folding his hands. "Okay, well, I can start. I'm Principal Lovelace, the Dauntless principal, which is the faction Beatrice chose."

"Right. What are factions again?" Mom asks.

"Factions are the learning groups here." Mr. Lovelace explains. "Each student chooses a faction, and that determines the classes they will take here."

"So Dauntless is the..."

"Dauntless is the brave faction. Erudite, the faction Caleb Prior chose, is the smart faction. Candor are the honest, Abnegation the selfless, and Amity the peaceful."

"Why didn't my daughter choose Erudite?" Dad asks, turning slightly red in the face. "She's a genius."

"Because, Dad," I say with a sigh, "I'm not smart enough. I never have been. Besides, I chose the brave, because I kind of have to be, don't I?"

"Anyways, this is Sarah, the nurse here. This is Joan Russel, head of the cafeteria. And these are Beatrice's teachers. We are gathered here to discuss Beatrice's diabetes care and management. As far as I'm aware, Beatrice also has asthma, but that can be dealt with accordingly."

And so, the meeting began. It was a boring affair, and I've never been so relieved as when the first bell rings, ending the meeting, and sending me to class. For those of you who are curious, my schedule looks like this:

Block 1: English III, James Kurkland, room 357

Block 2: Medical Terminology, Alexis Butler, Room 208

Block 3: Spanish II, Daniel Ebstein, Room 602

Lunch 3

Block 4: Calculus, Hannah Arnette, room 704

Locker number: 646, combination 13-32-33.

* * *

a/n: The locker combination is from another book. Shout-outs if you can guess from where.

* * *

I head off in search of my locker so that I can make it to Mr. Kurkland's class on time. Nothing says I don't give a damn more than being late on your very first day.

As soon as I step into the room, it falls deadly quiet. Students turn to stare at me as I head across the room to Mr. Kurkland's desk, handing him my pass.

"So, Beatrice, is there a nickname you want us to call you by?"

"UM..." I trail off, because Beatrice just doesn't seem right anymore. "Tris." I say, grinning.

"Well, Tris, take a seat next to Christina Richardson. The name's Daniel, though I'm sure you already know that."

"All the Dauntless teachers have given up on us!" calls a boy from the back, "They know we won't call them by their last names. We're too badass for that!"

I join in the laughter as the boy settles back into his seat. Daniel just shrugs, as if to say, yep, he's got a point.

I take my seat, and Daniel turns to the board. He starts in on some lecture about **Gone with the Wind** , which makes me want to bust through the window and go running off down the street, screaming.

Christina slides a note towards me, which is kind of embarrass. What, are we in second grade? I unfold the note anyways, because I need some friends.

Tris:

Hey! My name's Christina! Welcome to Chicago High!

I grin and write back:

Thanks! Tris.

* * *

A/n: bold is Christina, italics is Tris.

* * *

 **Cool! Where'd you move from?**

 _Atlanta._

 **Awesome!**

 _Yeah. I miss it._

 **Yeah. I bet. I've lived in Chicago my whole life. I can't imagine living anywhere else.**

 _Well, I've lived in so many different places. My father's military._

 **Ah. You got any siblings?**

 _Ya. A brother, Caleb. My second cousin lives with us too. She's a kindergartner._

 **Cool! I have a sister, Rose. She's in kindergarten, too! What's you Snapchat?**

 _I don't have one. My parents won't let me._

 **Have you asked?**

 _No. There's no point._

 **Phone number?**

 _847-219-3596._

 **297-591-7357**

 _Okay. I'll add you when we bust this joint._

 **K.**

I grin, pocketing Christina's note, getting up right as the bell rings. Christina turns to me, smiling.

"What's your second block?"

"Medical science. With Alexis Butler."

"Ah. Alexis is awesome. I have her next, too! Come on! Oh, and what lunch do you have?" Christina is like a verbal frate-train.

"I have third lunch." I say, gathering my diabetes kit.

"Awesome!" Christina says again. Then, "Hey, cool bag!"

"Thanks."

I try to divert attention from my kit and stride out of the classroom into the crowded hallways, Christina at my side.

"Do you want to sit with me and my friends at lunch?"

"Yeah, sure." I say, heading down to my locker, allowing a small grin to take over my face. Maybe I actually have a chance at this new school.

* * *

a/n: Okay, so I'm back again, this time with a new story. I have extreme writer's block on all my others, so yeah. Sorry. I hope you enjoy this, though. Okay, so Question Of The Day: favorite color?

Answer of the Day: black. (Review your answer.)

Audios amigos!

Bianca.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

A/n: Okay, so I'm very sorry I missed posting for the last two weeks. You'll get two chapters this week to make up for it. My grandmother was admitted into the hospital on October sixth, and I got bronchitis that same week. With the time I had to stay at home, I came up with the idea for this fic. Life's been stressing me out lately, because if you're in high school or have gone through high school, you know how heavy with workload is. Plus my grandmother is living with us for awhile; she was just released yesterday. So, as you can see, I've barely taken a deep breath since the first of the month. So, thanks for having patience with me. Before I get into this chapter, I would like to say thanks to my beta, CavyGirl1991. Thanks for catching all the mistakes I would have missed otherwise.

Disclaimer: Wouldn't life be perfect if I was Veronica Roth? My dreams would have already come true! But, since I'm still in the very early stages of writing my very first novel, I'm most definitely not Veronica Roth.

* * *

Chapter Two:

I wind up sitting next to a guy named Uriah Pedrad, who was the same boy who made the comment in Daniel's class, and Christina, in Alexis's class. Alexis is a young teacher, not even thirty, who is one of the coolest teachers I've ever had. I have to appreciate how fun she makes the class.

* * *

When we head to lunch, I tell Christina I have to do something, but I'll meet her in the cafeteria, before heading down to my locker, and grabbing my purse. I then head into the bathroom, and do a finger-stick. The PDM beeps, alerting me that my blood sugar is 102. I pack up, do a quick bolus for lunch, then head down to the cafeteria.

Christina stands by the door, waiting on me, I suppose. I rush up, smiling slightly.

"Sorry! Got lost."

"It's cool." she says, leading me into the cafeteria.

I have to stop and stare, because the place is huge. Several lunch lines are already full with students, vending machines sit against one wall, there are tables of different shapes, rectangular and round, scattered throughout the room, and students are paying for snack foods from carts lined up against one wall. Still other students are in lines corresponding to their faction, labeled DESSERT.

"Whoa!" I mutter, taking in the chaos.

"Yeah. It's pretty insane, huh? Anyways, what line do you want? There's pizza, hot lunch, subs and sandwiches, and salads."

"I'm gonna get the hot lunch." I say, stepping into the line I think is for the hot lunch, although it's hard to tell for sure.

Christina nods, and runs off, jumping into the pizza line. The hot lunch consists of a piece of steak that looks like you'd need a chain-saw to cut it, limp green beans, runny mashed potatoes, a roll that looks like it went through the ringer and back, and a pudding cup. Yep, definitely bringing my own lunch from now on. I have to apply for a meal card, which runs on a points system, and then pay for my meal before heading off to find Christina who stands with Uriah. She waves me over to them, then when I'm there, starts moving through the pandemonium to the dessert line for the Dauntless.

"Um, I can't go through there." I say awkwardly. I hadn't planned for extra carbs, and an extra bolus would be a pain in the ass, because I'd have to get out my PDM in front of my new friends.

"Why not?" Christina asks. She'd already told me she used to be Candor, and I believe it.

"I'm on a diet." I say, which is a half-truth, anyway.

"Anorexia? Tris, starving yourself isn't the right answer." Christina says. It's amazing just how quickly she can jump to a conclusion.

"No! My doctors put this in place." I say, shifting my tray from one arm to the other.

"Oh. Sorry." Christina says with an awkward laugh. I shrug, and she heads off through the line.

When she returns, she leads me to a table where several kids are already seated. She sits next to a blonde boy, and gestures for me to find a spot to sit. I wind up sitting between a broad-shouldered replica of Uriah, and a boy with brown hair and blue eyes.

"Okay, y'all. This is Tris. Tris, this is Will," the boy sitting next to Christina, "Zeke," the boy who looks like a replica of Uriah, "Four," the boy with blue eyes, "Shauna," a girl in a wheelchair between Zeke and another girl, "Lynn," the girl next to Shauna who's sporting a shaved head, "Marlene," a girl in between Lynn and Will, "and Al," a burly kid sitting awkwardly, staring at me, which is kind of unnerving.

I smile and say hi to everyone, before beginning to eat. Al decides to start up a conversation.

"So, Tris, where are you from?"

"Atlanta." I answer. "Before that, it was San Fransisco. My father's military. Or, at least, he used to be."

"Cool!" Lynn pipes up. "I want to be military, but Mom has her doubts."

"Mom didn't want Dad to go into the military, but he insisted, so yeah."

"Hey, Tris, that's a cool bag! Where'd you get it?" Shauna asks, pointing to my kit.

"I got it in Austin." I answer, not going into any further details.

"Awesome!" Shauna says, grinning. "I've always wanted to move to Texas. How is it?"

"Hot." I answer, spearing a couple green beans. "And you get a lot of tornadoes."

"Oh." Shauna says, still grinning.

Christina smiles across the table at me, before pulling out her cell phone, and messing with it for a minute. I pull out my own, so I can add Christina's number to my contact list, which is pathetically small; just my mom, dad, brother, and current endocrinologist.

"Oooh! Let's all add Tris to our contacts!" Christina says, grinning.

"Sure. Why not?" Uriah says, grinning mischievously.

"Let's pass our phones around so Tris can add her number and we can add ours." Will suggests. He is actually one of the smartest in the group. I shrug and change my doctor's name from Endocrinologist, to his first name, Tyler. Then, I pass my phone off to Four, and he passes his to me.

I enter my number into his contacts, then pass it back to him. And so it goes, until my phone has made the circle, and everyone else's phone has wound up in my hands.

After lunch, I have Calculus with Hannah. I'm a math nerd, but nobody in my lunch group is in my class, so I head off alone. Hannah's class is fun, because it has to do with math, which as I have already stated, I love.

* * *

I head out to my car at the end of the day, check my sugar, 120, and head off to get Shae. When we finally get home, you can tell Shae is exhausted. I wind up carrying her, and her heavy backpack, (what in the world did they put in that thing? Bricks?), up the porch step;, and into the house, setting her down once we're inside the door.

I then head into the kitchen, check my blood sugar again, still 120, and program a bolus for a bag of chips. Normally, I'd have swim team right after school, but it's dead week, apparently. I grab my backpack, diabetes kit and chips, and head up to my room so I can start on my homework.

Some people do their homework without any trouble, but I have a homework routine. I always eat first, usually while watching TV. Then, once I'm done eating, I check my sugar again, because if it's too high or too low, I can't focus. I administer corrections as needed, then put my phone on Do Not Disturb, turn off my TV, sit at my desk, and work through my homework methodically, class by class, while blasting some music, which is a key component I need to focus. Caleb likes to criticize me for this routine, but hey, if it helps me then it's not his place to comment on it.

Today's homework is pretty easy, and I finish it pretty quickly. Once I'm done, I shove my binder into my backpack, turn off Do Not Disturb, and scroll through Pinterest for awhile. When Mom finally calls me down for dinner, I grab my diabetes kit, knock on Shae's door to let her know, then race down the stairs to beat Caleb, because as a general rule in my family, the person who helps before dinner doesn't have to help after dinner. When I've set the table, and carried the pizza over to it, I do a finger-stick, 100, and estimate the number of carbs in two slices of pizza.

"How was your day, Beatrice?" Mom asks, smiling at me. "Make any new friends?"

Caleb snorts. "As if."

"Actually," I say, glaring at my brother, "I have."

Caleb does a spit take. "What! You! The introvert!"

"Yes." I say defiantly, crossing my arms across my chest.

"Do they know about your diabetes?" Mom asks, setting her pizza back on the plate. I shake my head, no. Caleb rolls his eyes, but a quick kick from me and he shuts up.

"How about you, Caleb?" Dad asks, eager to change the subject.

"Yeah. Cara and Fernando."

"Cara Ridgemond?" I ask, taking a sip of my sweet tea.

"Yeah. Why?"

"She's my friend Will's sister." I answer, grinning.

"Cool." Caleb says, smiling for the first time all day.

"What about you, Shae?" I ask, smiling encouragingly at her.

"Yeah. Rose-Anna Richardson."

"Cool! That's my friend Christina's little sister."

"I also have a friend named Kristina!"

"Is she loud?" I ask, smiling.

"Yeah! Very loud!"

"So's my Christina." I say, laughing.

Mom smiles. "Sounds like you've all had an amazing day back."

"Yeah." I say, happy to be back with everyone that has always been there for me: my mother, my father, my brother, and my cousin.

* * *

A/n: So I guess this is more of a filler chapter, but hopefully it's still good.

In response to reviews:

Charms22: awww! Thanks! Thanks for reviewing, like, every chapter of every story I've ever posted! It means so much to me!

Guest: Yeah, I did mean wrestling. I'll go in and fix that. Thanks. And thanks for the compliment and encouragement. It means a lot.

Guest two: Thanks! I hope you like this one, too.

Please review, y'all! It really encourages me to write more. Alrighty, audios amigos!

Bianca.

Question Of The Day: What's your favorite candy bar? (Review your answer. Shout-outs to anyone who does.)

Answer Of the Day: Snickers. My braces prevent me from eating them, though.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three:

A/n: Hey guys. Two chapters this week, so I can catch back up. Thanks to my amazing beta, CavyGirl1991. I really apreciate it.

Disclaimer: unless my name changes miraculously one day, I will never own Divergent.

* * *

Chapter Three:

My phone buzzes, and I grab for it. A group message, sent by Christina, naturally, to the gang. Smiling, I click it open.

Christina: Hey all! I've been thinking...

Will: uh-oh.

Tris: LOL.

Christina: Tris! Who's side are you on?

Tris: not yours, LOL.

Christina: I'm offended! It was actually a good idea!

Tris: well, shoot!

Four: Uh-oh.

Zeke: LMAO.

Christina: we should have, like, a gang party! As a way to celebrate Tris joining!

Shauna: yeah!

Tris: Uh... I'm down for the party, but not the reason behind it. What if it was just a back-to-school party?

Zeke: Yeah! We have to make the prospect of school fun somehow, right?

Four: I'm down.

Will: sure, why not?

Uriah: you don't even have to ask me!

Shauna: I'm in!

Lynn: I'm game! Just beware, Tris, Zeke loves alcohol.

Tris: I've never drank. I'm not planning on it, either.

Uriah: you're no fun!

Four: Leave her alone, Uri. If she doesn't wanna drink, don't make her.

Tris: Thanks Four.

Four: no problem.

And it's official. I'm invited to a party. When I tell Mom about what the plan is, she suggests that the girls come back over here, and we can have a sleep-over. That winds up with Caleb inviting Fernando over, and Shae inviting Rose-Anna and Kristina over for the afternoon.

* * *

Christina had told me to wear layers, so I slip into boy shorts, some leggings, a plain tank, a short-sleeved shirt, and a Twenty One Pilots sweatshirt. I slip on my tennis shoes, and then apply some light foundation, concealer, and eyeshadow. I straighten my long blonde hair, and then give myself a once-over in the mirror hanging over my dresser. Deciding that the chances of my pod being revealed, from it's place on the backside of my left arm, are slim to none, I decide that I'm ready to roll. I grab my kit and inhaler, and head down to the kitchen where Mom is sitting at the counter, doing some quick charting before everyone gets here.

"Eat a snack before you go." she says, pointing to the fridge. I sigh, check my BG, 100, plug in the carb count, and grab an apple from the counter. I sit across from Mom at the table, and wait for the litany of warnings I usually get when I go to someone's house.

"No drinking." Mom says, looking up from her chart. "Offer to be the designated driver, so you don't have to drink. Make sure the boys have one as well, please. Text me any time you get ready to eat, so I know what your BG is, and what you're eating. Use your inhaler if you need it, and make sure you have all the proper supplies to manage both your diabetes and asthma. I've spoken to Hanna Pedrad, but told her this information shouldn't be shared with Uriah and Zeke, or anyone else."

"Okay." I say, heading out to the car. I check my BG, 172, and pull out of the driveway. I turn onto Christina's street, and fire off a quick text to tell her I'm here. She climbs into the backseat, because Shauna's gonna need the front. I back out of Christina's driveway, and drive down to where Marlene works at a coffee shop. She piles into the back, and Lynn hops in with her. I drive to Shauna's doctor, and when she gets out to the car, Lynn picks her up, plops her into the front seat, and puts the wheelchair into the trunk. When everyone's finally settled, I text Zeke that I'm on my way, and pull out, taking off towards Zeke's house. Shauna's face turns red as I pull into his driveway.

"You like him." Lynn says, grinning.

"Shut up!" Shauna snaps. I smile at the sisters, and grab Shauna's wheelchair for her. She swings out of the car, and sits in the chair. I grab my kit and inhaler, and then smile at Lynn, who's helping Marlene carry cookies and stuff. "I've got her."

"Thanks, Tris." Lynn says, smiling in relief. I smile back, then grab the handles of Shauna's wheelchair, and wheel her up the ramp Zeke's family has on their porch, and into the house. Loud music blasts through huge speakers on the walls, and the smell of pizza fills the air. Hanna points us down to the basement, and tells me to wheel Shauna around; it's a walk-in basement.

The guys are already here, playing air hockey and ping pong. Shauna thanks me for helping her, then wheels over to watch the ping pong game between Zeke and Al. I step over to air hockey, where Four is facing off with Uriah.

"Winner plays me." I announce, grinning.

"It's so on, Trissy-poo."

"Don't **ever** call me that again." I say, glaring at Uri.

After smacking the puck for awhile, Four scores a goal on Uri, and flips another point on his score thingy. Uri fishes out the puck and sends it whizzing back towards Four, who executes a picture perfect block, and sends it flying back into Uri's goal. Four winds up winning the match.

"Okay, Four. You ready to face me?" I ask, grinning. Four just shrugs. I grab the stick from Uri, and retrieve the puck from the goal. I set up the shot, then smack the puck, and send it flying across the table at super-speed. Four tries to block it, but misses, and winds up hitting it backwards into his goal. I flip the number up on my score-keeping thing.

The game continues in this fashion. Several times, the puck flies off the table, and one of us has to run and get it. In the end, it's a close match, but I come out victorious. I throw my fist into the air, then start to sing that DJ Kaled song:

"All I do is win, win, win, no matter what, what, what. Got money on my mind, I can't ever get enough. And every time I step into that building, everybody's hands go up!"

Four actually does something very rare for him: he smiles. Zeke smacks his fist into mine, grinning.

"We've all tried to beat Four. He's undefeated, or at least until now."

"What can I say? I'm just awesome!"

"Yeah. Well, let's play Candor or Dauntless before we eat, in case someone gets too drunk."

"I'm not drinking; I'm the designated driver." I say, shrugging.

"Whatever." Zeke says. Then, "alright y'all! Candor or Dauntless time!. We all circle up, and Zeke explains the rules. "Basically, someone asks you Candor or Dauntless. If you choose Candor, you have to answer a question truthfully. If you pick Dauntless, you have to do a dare. If you refuse to answer your question or do your dare, you have to take off an article of clothing, not counting shoes and socks. I'll start. Shauna, Candor or Dauntless?"

"Dauntless."

"Go out with me."

"Deal!" Shauna turns away from Zeke, positively glowing. "Tris, Candor or Dauntless?"

"Dauntless, I guess."

"I dare you to eat a whole family-sized bag of Potato chips."

"Hell no!" I yell, removing my sweatshirt. "Four, Candor or Dauntless?"

"Dauntless." he answers shortly.

"I dare you to kiss Zeke for fifteen seconds."

Four shrugs and heads over to Zeke, who cringes. Four leans forward, and presses his lips to Zeke's, standing there awkwardly. I start a timer on my cell, and wait until it vibrates in my hands to release him.

"Okay. Uriah, Candor or Dauntless?"

"Dauntless! I'm no pansycake!"

"I dare you to do the cinnamon challenge."

"Yeah, okay." Uri says, running up the stairs and returning with a bottle of cinnamon and a bucket. He pours some into a spoon from the table, and pops it into his mouth. He gags, and thrusts his face into his bucket. When he comes up for air, he looks at Four.

"Four. Candor or Dauntless?"

"Dauntless."

"Tell us your real name."

Four swiftly whips off his shirt, and throws it into the middle of the circle. "Tris, Candor or Dauntless?"

"Dauntless."

"Do the Keke Do You Love Me challenge."

"Okay." I say, grabbing my phone, and heading out to my car. I hmp behind the wheel, and Four crams into the passenger seat. I skip the BG check, since I'm just pulling out of the driveway, then swap with Four, giving him the wheel for a few seconds, while I use my phone to find the song. Four holds his phone up as I start the song and hop out of the car, dancing along to it, my hair blowing in the wind.

The game continues in this fashion, until Christina is down to just her bra and jeans, Zeke is wearing just an undershirt and jeans, I'm wearing everything but my sweatshirt, Will is in everything but his jacket, Shauna is in everything but her jeans, (there were legging under them, though), Uri is missing a shirt, Four is missing a shirt, Lynn is in everything but her uniform pants, there were jeans under them, Marlene is missing an overshirt, although she's wearing a camisole, And Al is out, hiding in the bathroom because he wouldn't do any dare or tell any truth.

"Okay, Trissy-poo, Candor or Dauntless?"

"Candor." I say, trying not to sound nervous.

"What's your deepest secret?" he asks. I remove my tee shirt, forgetting about my pod. Everyone gasps at something I can't see, and Uri breaks the silence, true to form. "Tris, what's on your arm? And where'd those bruises come from?"

"Shit." I whisper, before taking a shaky breath. It's time to tell the truth.

"Okay." I say, taking a deep breath. "Have any of you ever heard of diabetes?"

"What!" Christina shrieks. "You have diabetes?"

"Wait. You have **what?** was Will exclaims.

"Okay, so some of you have heard of it. I have Type 1 Diabetes. I was diagnosed when I was seven. Basically, Type 1 Diabetes effects the pancreas, which is the part of the body that produces insulin. Insulin is responsible for the body's ability to process sugar.

When your body can't make insulin, your blood sugar, called blood glucose or BG, gets higher and higher. People with diabetes have to get insulin from outside sources, and monitor their carb intake, and BG.

Some people give themselves shots of insulin, through an insulin pen or syringe. I have an insulin pen on me, in case my pump fails. Other people, like me, use insulin pumps to get their insulin. I use an OmniPod insulin pump, which is tubeless. I also have a PDM, personal diabetes manager, that connects to the pod and administers my insulin."

"Wow." Christina says, biting her lip. "I couldn't do it, Tris."

"You could if you had too." I tell her.

"Don't you also have to like, stab your finger several times a day?" asks Shauna.

"Yeah." I answer. "I use a lancet to check my BG before I eat, and if I have any symptoms of high or low blood sugar."

"Can you show us?" Uri asks. Leave it to him.

"Um, okay? When we eat, I'll show you what I have to do."

"So that's why you wouldn't get any cake." Christina says, realization flashing in her eyes. "You couldn't, because it would fuck your blood sugar up."

"Yeah. That's also part of the reason I don't drink." I explain, tucking my hair over my shoulder.

"Let's all put our clothes back on." Shauna suggests. "Then we can eat. I'm starving."

"Yeah, okay." I say, grabbing my shirts, and throwing them back on. Zeke pounds on the bathroom door to tell Al the game's over. The rest of the gang throws on clothes, and Uri runs up the stairs to get the pizzas.

"I come baring food!" he yells, coming down with the pizza boxes stacked precariously in his arms. I run forward and grab three boxes before he can drop them.

"Okay." I say, grabbing the paper from the top of the box of cheese pizza, and reading the carbs. I nod and replace it. "Before I can eat or bolus or anything..."

"What's a bolus?" Christina asks.

"It's a certain amount of insulin to match the carbs I'm eating." I answer. "Anyway, before I can do that, I have to check my blood sugar. Maybe it's a good thing for y'all to know what to do, because when I get low, sometimes I'm a bit disoriented. Anyways, I take this strip, and put it into my PDM. Then I take this lancet device, prime it, and put that down next to the PDM. You have to clean your finger off before you can check your BG, because any sugar on your finger can mess up the reading. Then you just prick your finger with the lancet, and place the blood onto the strip."

"Ew!" shrieks Chris, staggering away from me. The machine beeps, and I read the number out loud.

"122. My target range is 80-180."

"So you can eat now?" Uriah asks, tearing into the pepperoni pizza.

"No." I say, laughing at the tomato sauce he's somehow managed to get on his nose. "Now I have to bolus it. Then I have to wait five minutes before I can eat." I put in the info, and wait for the bolus to start before packing up the kit. I text my BG to Mom, as well as my bolus, before sticking the PDM back into the kit.

After dinner, I stand with Christina out on the porch. Her gaze is far away, like there are a million thoughts running through her head, although that could also be due to the hefty amount of alcohol she had to drink. I wind up helping her out to the car, as well as getting the giggling Marlene and aggressive Lynn. Shauna's staying at Zeke's because one of the wheels on her chair came off, and she can't go anywhere without it, having been partially paralyzed from a car accident.

The drive to the girls' houses is surreal. Christina isn't in the mood to chat, Lynn is extra violent; I'm scared she'll punch a hole to my seat, and Marlene is muttering something about cats. I suppose there were some drugs involved with the drinking, but I'm not one hundred percent sure.

When I arrive home, my father is pacing. As soon as I get out of the car, he grabs my arm, and drags me into the house.

"Andrew, let go of her." Mom says, entering from the kitchen.

"You were supposed to text me your BG before you started driving home, young lady."

"I'm sorry, Dad. When you're dealing with three drunk teenagers, you kind of forget to text a number to someone. It feels like you don't trust me to test. Here, here's my PDM. It can see for yourself."

Dad frowns, grabs the device from me, reads the results of my last blood test, then passes it back to me, storming off to the living room. Mom sighs and runs a hand through my hair.

"Night, sweetie." she says, heading for her bedroom.

"Night, Mom." I say, heading up the stairs to my room. I take a quick shower before climbing into bed, and drifting into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

A/n: Longest chapter yet! Yay! Please review; it motivates me.

Bianca.

In response to reviews:

Charms22: Thanks! Snickers are my favorite, too.

Guest: thanks!

Rensie: Thanks! I love Snickers, too.

QOTD shout-outs: Charms22, Rensie

QOTD: What's your favorite flavor of cookie?

AOTD: Chocolate-chip, peanut-butter, gingersnaps

(Review your answer. Shout-outs go to anyone who does.)


	4. Chapter 4

A/n: Okay, so I'm about two days late to the party. Or more like a week and two days because I promised this last week. Procrastination sucks. So, thanks for the eleven reviews, and being so patient with me. Also, thanks to my amazing beta, CavyGearl1991, who took the time to read and help me fix up this chapter. But you didn't click on this to hear me ramble, so now, on to the chapter.

Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure Veronica Roth isn't searching everywhere for that dollar for school tomorrow; I'm not Veronica Roth. I don't own Divergent.

* * *

Chapter Four:

It's been three weeks since the disastrous party at Zeke's, and it's the last swim meet of the school season. I'm in the locker room, changing in my swimsuit when it hits me. Damn! I forgot my pod is on my arm; I've gotten so used to placing it there, because there was another girl on my team who was diabetic as well. Now, though, it's just me, and the pod looks super out of place there. I don't have time to change it, so I gather my courage, and step out of the changing room. I hope my friends don't notice.

I head over to where Tara Wilson and Kiana Sinclair are hanging up a school banner. I'm probably too short to be of much use, but I still approach them. Kiana is the first one to see me coming.

"Hi, Tris!" she says, stepping up on a chair and taping up the last corner of the banner.

"Hi." I say, smiling at them.

"Hey, Tris, what's that on your arm?" Tara asks.

"It's an insulin pump." I say, awkwardly.

"Cool. I've been looking for something to help me quit smoking. Does it really work for you?"

"She's diabetic, idiot." Kiana says, hopping off the chair. "My aunt's type 1, and she uses an insulin pump."

"Wait, are you going to die?" Tara shrieks. Kiana and I exchange a glance.

"No." we say in unison. Tara may be our friend, but she's a total ditz.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Tara exclaims. "If you died, who would win the 500 for us?"

"Tara!" I exclaim, laughing. "What the hell?"

Kiana looks like she's inwardly face-palming. I shake my head, sighing. Yep, Tara's definitely not the brightest bulb in the box.

If you thought that was bad, you should have seen what Fiona Daniels had to ask. "Are you on birth control?" Like, who just asks someone that? I recover quickly enough to inform her that no, I am not on birth control, and that she probably shouldn't just go around asking that. She apologized of course, but it was still an awkward question.

And if that isn't bad enough, Michelle Adams asks if I have cancer! When I tell her I'm diabetic, she gets as far away from me as possible, which isn't very far, since the team is taking a pre-meet picture.

The meet goes well, and we actually win, which I'm not expecting, 'cause Vera Lopez was absent from it, and she's the only member of the team who is anywhere close to good at butterfly. I pull through on the 50 and 500, my two favorite races, and, even though I had it out with an official, I was allowed to keep my pod and medical bracelet on for the meet. This may not sound like much, but in swimming, you're not allowed to wear anything but your cap and goggles in the pool. I dunno why, it's just the way it works.

When the meet's over, I head through the lobby, skipping the team pizza party, and out to my car. I don't make habits of skipping team parties—they're usually fun—but I promised Mom I'd babysit for Shae while she and Dad went to this new Italian restaurant. While they get away from diabetes, anxiety, overdue projects, asthma, and dyslexia. I hope they enjoy it, because once they get back, it's back to the world of insulin pumps, peak flow meters, anxiety meds, nightmares, and "Where are my glasses?", from Caleb, naturally. He may be a certified genius with an IQ of over 200, but he's also a scatter-brain who once put his glasses in the soap dish, his keys in the silverware drawer, his wallet in the refrigerator, and his cell phone in the dishwasher. True story! I'm the neat freak of the family, and I was the one who put his keys back on the hall table, retrieved his cell phone from the dishwasher—before it started, thankfully—and put his ID back on the banister.

When I get home, Mom is just running out the door with Dad. I change, then fix dinner; a frozen pizza. I prefer making things from scratch, but it's late, and I have a lot of homework I haven't had time to start on. I do a finger-stick, eighty, then flip the box in my hands to find the number of carbs it contains. I then plug the number into the PDM, and head to the bottom of the stairs to call my cousin.

"Shae! Dinner!"

Shae thunders down the stairs—that kid is going to be a track star one day—and skids to a stop in front of me. "Pizza?!" she asks, her excitement clearly showing. I nod, and we both rush to claim some before Caleb gets home and eats the rest.

I help Shae with her homework—she's dyslexic, and sometimes needs an extra boost, although I'm not too much help because I'm dyslexic, too—and finally start in on my own math homework. My dyslexia mostly extends to reading, and like I said earlier, I'm a math nerd.

Before I go to bed, I slide my lips around my peak flow meter, and breathe out. The number slowly appears, 82. My best reading is 200.

I take my medicine, check my sugar, ninety, then go to bed. I don't get much sleep, though, because I wake up two hours later struggling to breathe, and shaking all over, cold sweat beading up on my forehead. Now, if it were just the cold sweat, the pounding heart, and the shaky feeling, I'd say it's a low. However, add chest pains, and my low peak flow reading earlier, I'm gonna say asthma attack, **and a low**. I climb out from under the covers, do a finger-stick, and wait for the results. Low and be hold, my blood sugar is sixty. (See what I did there? **Low** and behold? My sugar is low? Okay, I'll stop.) I suspend the pump, eat a bag of Skittles, and then pad down the hall to my parents' room. I'm able handle most asthma and sugar problems on my own, but an attack and a low is a new one on me, and I really don't want to pass out before I can get to my inhaler. I knock on their door. Hard.

Mom opens it in her nightgown. When she sees me, she jumps from confusion into Mom mode. We've been in situations similar to this one enough for her to know exactly how to do it.

"Beatrice, eat was your glucose level?" Mom asks, following me back down the hall.

"Sixty," wheeze, "I took," wheeze, "some candy," wheeze, "but I don't know if," wheeze, "it's enough to raise it."

"Okay. Let me go get the peak flow meter. Do you remember your reading from earlier today?"

"Eighty-two." I answer.

"Okay, honey. Do another blood test; I'll be right back. And try to breathe." With that, she's gone.

I do another finger-stick, and wait for the result. It only takes five seconds, but it feels like it's taking five lifetimes. Finally, the result comes back. Fifty-five. I look for some candy, but I realize that I ate my last bag of Skittles. I was gonna get more, but I didn't have time.

I pop some glucose tabs, and choke them down. They taste like chalk, despite the fact that they're supposed to be grape flavor. I do another finger-stick, fifty-eight. Good. It's coming back up.

Mom comes running in. She takes the PDM from me, and thrusts the peak flow meter into my hands. She's moving efficiently, and I'm struggling to move period. I blow through the tube again, and we wait. Mom holds up my kit, and flips through it until she finds sty rescue inhaler. She shoves that into my hands, and reads the peak flow reading aloud.

"Forty. Beatrice, I'm gonna have to take you to the Emergency Room."

The drive to the hospital takes eons. I've gotten my breathing under control, thanks to my inhaler, but my blood sugar is still bouncing around in the mid to low fifties, and my peak flow reading keeps dropping every time I check. When we left the house, it was thirty-eight. When we get to the hospital, it's twenty-two. It dropped sixteen points in under thirty minutes; the hospital's a ways from our house, and it didn't occur to Mom to call an ambulance... or grab my nebulizer. Every ten minutes, I have to use the rescue inhaler again.

The doctors work quickly. They get my breathing stabilized by injecting me with a steroid to open my airways. The nurse comes in, and takes PDM from me so he can check my numbers. He seems to like what he sees, although he does lecture me about not checking before the swim meet—I'm notoriously bad about checking, applying my temp basal, and eating before meets, mostly because of all the pep-talks, and all the pre-meet hustle. Also, there's a blind girl on the team that I volunteered to get where she needed to be, because her cane isn't practical in a pool area,.

Tyler gives me a cherry coke to sip on while he gets the nurse to put an insulin bag on my IV and check my vitals.

Tyler looks at me, all business, and says, "Tris, have you ever had an asthma attack, and a low on the same day?"

I shake my head; no.

"Well," Tyler says, "you did have a swim meet today, and forgot to check your sugar, set your temp basal, and eat something. You probably gave yourself extra insulin at dinner to compensate. You bolused for the equivalent of two slices of pizza, but only ate one. We won't mess with your basal rates or anything; just try to be more careful. We'll keep you overnight, just for observation."

I nod, and close my eyes. Tyler leaves, letting the door fall shut behind him. I decide to focus on sleeping, since I know the nurses is gonna come in to do some poking and prodding soon. The last thing my sleep-deprived mind thinks of: Christina is gonna kill me.

* * *

A/n: So, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. The next one will be coming out on Saturday; I swear on the River Styx. Okay, so do you think we can get to fifteen reviews? I think we can! Alrighty, audios amigos!

Bianca.

QOTD shout-outs: LanaTobiasFailAtWriting

Responses to reviews:

Charms22: thanks!

LanaTobiasFailAtWriting: yeah, me, too.

LanaTobiasFailAtWriting: Thanks. She is on the mend, thank the gods.

LanaTobiasFailAtWriting: Chocolate chip is awesome.

Urtypicalnerd: Thanks! Here's your update! I'm glad you love my story.

QOTD: What's your favorite day of the week?

AOTD: Fridays! (Review your answer)


	5. Chapter 5

A/n: Hey, y'all! I'm a tad late, but I hurt my wrist, so I wasn't having the best week. I also got hooked on the Jeopardy Tournament of Champions... yeah, I'm a nerd! Thanks to my awesome beta CavyGirl1991, who helped me ensure that this chapter was as perfect as we could get it.

Disclaimer: Veronica Roth isn't looking at colleges right now.

* * *

Chapter Five:

I find myself dreaming. Except, it isn't just any dream. It's the type of dream where you have snapshots of your life.

It all started when I was seven, and we lived in New York City. I was an active kid; on the swim team, just like I am now. I also did some acting in my free time, I was always up to something. That's why, when my symptoms first appeared, we missed them.

Oh, she's always thirsty? Well, she swims pretty hard, and she's always running wherever she goes. Makes sense. Oh, she eats all the time? Must be all the stuff she's doing. She's tired all the time? Must be all she's doing. Until I collapsed.

I don't remember exactly how it happened. I do remember that I was at home, and was heading down to dinner. I remember feeling nauseous, like I was going to get sick.

My dad came in to check on me. It may seem surprising that my dad was the one who went in to check on me—usually it's Mom—but that's how it happened. When he saw me huddled over the toilet, seemingly emptying everything I'd ever had to eat in my seven years of life, he freaked.

"Natalie! Natalie, come here for a sec!"

Mom came running up the stairs. She called an ambulance, because she said I was unresponsive. I don't remember much after that.

The next thing I remember is waking up in Mount Sinai hospital's Pediatric Intensive Care Unit with an IV in my hand, and two tearful parents by my bedside.

They told me what was going on, and we cried together for a while. Then, a nurse told me I'd have to go to three days of eight-hour classes—diabetes boot camp—before i could go home.

We had to learn about insulin, blood sugar, carb counting, and how, if kids manage their own diabetes, they will be more motivated to care for themselves later on. We watched some movies, got materials, and went on our way.

School was hell. Everyone assumed it was catching, so they avoided me like I had the plague. We moved later that year. I'm not sure, but I think that was the only move I was ever happy about.

Since then, I've made it a vow to never tell my friends about my diabetes. I know it's risky, but it was a good protective mechanism.

I went on the pump when I was thirteen. I was notoriously bad at remembering to take my shots, although somehow, I was good at testing. Plus, I went through a period where I was like "screw this! I don't want to give myself my shots. I don't want to test. I just want to be like everyone else."

It all came to a climax a couple week before my fourteenth birthday. I'd been feeling off for a while, but I refused to acknowledge that anything was wrong with my readings. Then, shit hit the fan.

I was in English Lit, when I suddenly started getting weak in the knees. I fell out of my seat onto the floor, and passed out.

No one knew what was wrong with me. They called an ambulance, which rushed to my aid. My sugar was 652, and the secret of my diabetes was out.

I stayed in the ICU for three days. I had gone into DKA, Diabetic Ketoacidosis. My parents and I had long, emotional heart-to-hearts about why I stopped taking care of myself. I was scared I'd die, and I made up my mind to never end up in this situation again.

When I was moved to a regular room, my endocrinologist at the time, Hannah, had suggested an insulin pump, instead of shots. I also got a lecture about sticking to my diet, testing without fail, and making sure that if I ever felt off, to go to the nurse immediately.

Insulin pumps in general never appealed to me. I wasn't one for tubing, and having to connect and disconnect from it, and the process of changing infusion sites seemed unnecessarily complicated.

I finally settled on the OmniPod, which is a tubeless pump. Then, I had to have two four-hour classes on that before I could go home.

I've still had my screw-up moments, like that time the pod came off, and I didn't notice right away. Or the time my PDM fell into the pool; Mom and Dad were not pleased. It only got better from there, though.

And now I have friends who know about my diabetes, and who won't turn on me. In fact, they've embraced me.

Like that one time on Halloween, when we went trick-or-treating and I felt low. I didn't have much candy that was good for lows, but Four did. He helped me to the curb, I checked my blood sugar, then ate two packs of Skittles from Four. I later appologized, and admitted that I should have packed something to help bring my sugar up, but Four wasn't having it.

"Tris, chill out. It's fine; we got you. Besides, you already had three lows today. You already used up your supplies. It's all cool." That showed me that I really could trust them.

And, to make things even better, we're not moving again until I graduate! That may not sound like long, but the longest we've lived in one place was a year, and the shortest was a month.

Tyler is my sixth endocrinologist, mainly because we could usually drive a couple hours and be at my previous endo.

Part of the reason Dad left the military was because of how much trouble us kids were having with friends. I can't tell you how many friendships I had and lost because of Dad's job.

Now, though, I have friends that will be friends for a lifetime; I can already tell. Christina flat-out told me that I was her best friend, and she's mine, too.

Everything is okay. Maybe not perfect, but okay. And I'll take okay. Okay is good. Or at least, good enough for me. I'll take okay.

My mind drifts back to another memory, this one of when Shae came to live with us. She was only six months old, and it had been a long and nasty court battle between my mother's sister and my parents. Eventually, though, Shae was allowed to move in with us. And since then, I've had a new role to play: the big sister. Or, sort of, anyway. Close enough for me.

I was there for her during those days when she had horrible nightmares, and when she seemed to always be sick. I was the one she came to when she broke her leg. So, things are good. Everything will be alright.

* * *

A/n: Okay, so I'll try to be back on Saturday. I'm gonna prewrite, so this hopefully won't happen again. Thanks for having patience; I really apreciate it. So, not to sound pushy, but do you think we can get to twenty reviews? That would be so incredibly awesome. Alrighty, audios amigos!

Bianca.

Responses to reviews:

Charms22: thanks! Me too.

Guest: please, please, please work on your capitalization skills. It took me litterally ten minutes to decode what in the hell you were trying to say. Roast me, if you want, but at least make it easy for me to read it. Thanks! Oh, and I spent literally an hour plotting this out.

CarissaCampbell: I'm with you one hundred percent. Thanks for the compliment, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

QOTD shout-outs: none

QOTD: what show are you currently hooked on?

AOTD: Jeopardy (review your answer).


	6. Chapter 6

A/n: Ohmygods, y'all probably HATE me! Anyways, here's chapter six. Check the bottom author's note for excuses and stuff. Before we get on with the chapter, I wanna say thanks to my awesome beta, CavyGirl1991. If you haven't checked her out yet, you really should; her stories are awesome.

Disclaimer: I'm feeling lazy today; I'm not Veronica Roth.

Chapter six:

The gang comes to visit me later the same day. I guess Caleb told them what was going on, or Christina got it out of one of the teachers somehow. Either way, it doesn't matter. I'm just glad they're here.

Christina gives me a hug and tells me that I'm not allowed to scare her that much again. Uriah, Marlene, Zeke, Shauna, Lynn, and Four all follow Christina. Will runs in a few minutes later.

"Hi, guys." I greet, readjusting slightly in the uncomfortable hospital bed. Shauna wheels up to the side of my bed, and Zeke grabs a chair for himself. The others stand, since there aren't any other chairs.

"We're technically breaking hospital rules." Will says. "No more than two visitors per room. You've got, like, ten." I laugh, knowing that the hospital staff shouldn't care too much.

Christina looks around in awe at the IV pole, the monitor that shows my vitals, and the oxygen tubing I was just taken off of.

"Damn, girl!" she says, shaking her head.

I smile ruefully, and nod. I briefly wonder whether or not the whole school knows my secret. I'm cool with my friends knowing, but not the entirity of Chicago High. That would be just a little too much for me to take.

Christina seems to read my mind. "We asked Caleb where you were and he told us. He made sure that we ddidn't tell anyone, though. Your brother can be kind of scary when he wants to be." Uriah shudders.

"What happened?" I ask, not sure I even want to know. The looks on Uriah and Christina's faces tell me that I probably don't.

"Don't ask." is all I get before Christina changes the subject. "So when do you get to bust this joint?"

"Hopefully tonight," I answer. "I'm so over hospitals."

Christina laughs. "I bet you are. The one time I was admitted, I couldn't wait to get out."

"What were you in for?" asks Will, clearly curious about why bubbly Christina was ever put into the hospital.

"When I was in middle school," Chis begins, looking around to make sure no one is in the hall to hear her, "I was going through a lot. Mom and Dad were going through a divoce, and I was getting bullied because people said I was fat. So, I went on a diet to try to lose weight. I skipped breakfast, and ate only a certain number of carbs a day. It got to the point to where I could go up to three days without eating at all. I lost about twenty pouds in three months. Eventually, Mom discovered that I was starving mmyself and put me into the hospital. I'm better, now, though."

Part of me feels honored that Christina chose to confide in me. Well, technically, the whole gang, but whatever. Still counts, as far as I'm concerned. Part of me wishes that my close friend never had to go through that. But it's the negative experiences in life that shapes a person's character.

A nurse comes in, and tells me I have too many visitors. I give her a pleading look, and she relents, telling us to just keep it down. When she leaves, Zeke says, "I gotta go. I have football practice in about twenty minutes. Shauna and Lynn are hitching a ride with me. Four, don't you have wrestling?"

"Yeah. I'm skipping today, though. I have a big history project. Besides, I'm giving Uri a ride to work, so yeah."

Zeke shrugs and leaves, wheeling Shauna in front of them. I'm kind of surprised they're not dating, to be honest.

Lynn rolls her eyes, sticks two fingers down her throat, and runs after them. I have a feeling that Lynn is picking up on it, too.

"So, what'd I miss?" I ask Chris. "And where's Al?"

"He had to babysit his little sisters. You'll meet them soon enough." I nod, and readjust myself in the bed. "As for what you missed, Four dropped wrestling practice to come here."

"No way."

"Yeah." Four says, shrugging. "We were coaching today, anyways. I always get stuck trying to teach Drew Blackman how to do a double-leg takedown, 'cause he still doesn't get it."

I laugh out loud. It's not like Four to blow off wrestling practice; in fact, I've never seen him do it before. Another wave of gratitude for my friends sweeps over me, and I can't help but feel like the luckiest girl alive.

"Drew deserves to be ditched." Will says, laughing. "Heree's not the smartest, and he's friends with Peter."

"Ugh." I mutter, shuddering.

"Oh no. Please tell me he hasn't gotten to you, too." Christina says, face going pale.

"Other than a few snide comments in the hallways—which, by the way, I can handle—no."

"You shouldn't have to handle it, Tris." Uri says, all pretense of joking gone. "It's not cool. I'm gonna fucking kill him."

Marlene nods, and Four says, "Count me in." They won't listen no matter how many times I tell them not to beat the shit out of him.

Like being called a slut isn't something I'm used to. When you move a lot, you don't tend to make that many friends. More often than not, you get picked on. It's just a fact of life. You accept it, you move on, and you put it behind you.

Uriah winds up hitching a ride with Marlene, so Four stays behind. Will leaves next, promising to text me to see how I am tomorrow. That just leaves Christina and Four.

"I'd better go," Christina says finally, getting up to leave. "Let me know when you get home. We'll stop by." With that, she's gone. I've noticed that Christina never says "goodbye."

Four and I talk about random shit for awhile. It's easy to talk to him. He's quiet, but he can also make me smile without even trying. He also seems to get me, which is something that rarely happens. He leaves about thirty minutes later.

"See you soon."

"Yeah."

That's it. No drama, no more talk of Peter and his two ugly minions, no talk about my diabetes or asthma. He knows these things, but he's not gonna pressure me. I remind myself that I owe him for that, then close my eyes, and drift off, put to ease by the drama-free day which is so out of the routine.

A/n: Okay, so if you wanna know why I haven't updated in over a month, feel free to read this. There's a lot of information here, so if you don't care, just skip down to the line break, where the review responses and stuff are located. So, yeah, here we go.

So, as you may have seen if you read my profile over the summer, or up until November, I've been going through some shit, and it kind of all came to a head. Please don't ask me to say more, because it's really hard for me to talk about. I was also being basically bullied by a teacher in my school, and it really threw me off my game.

Also, I had finals, one for psychology, and one for English. Then, we went on a cruise, and I didn't have wifi. I also managed to break my computer in the process, and literally just got it back.

Then, school started the day after New Year's, and just to give you an idea of what classes I'm taking, I've got Medical Terminology, Biology, and Geometry, and it's killing me!

My grandmother had surgery on January 3rd, and has been staying with us since November, but she's going home Monday.

Lastly, I wanna sight a lack of motivation to do more than the bare minimum for the last few months. I'm getting back to myself, though, so I'll be back on my game very soon, y'all.

And so that's it. I haven't had time, motivation, or energy to update. I feel like shit, but there you are. So, see you Saturday, hopefully. Audios, amigos!

Bianca.

PddS: Posting a new story today, too. It's called Dauntless Treatment Center. Check it out!

Review responses:

Welp: Um... that a good thing or a bad thing?

Charms22: LOL; one of my IRL friends is addicted to that, too.

CarissaCampbell: thanks for the vote of confidence. I know what it feels like to feel isolated, and I used Tris's flashbacks partly out of my own experiences.

QOTD shout-outs: Charms22

QOTD: Do you write, read, or review more fan fics?

AOTD: write, definitely.


	7. Chapter 7

A/n: Hey, gang! For once, I'm posting on time! With my procrastination issues, that's certainly saying something! So, I'm goonna appologize for my sloppy posting of the chapter on Thursday, but I was in a hurry to get it up before my friend called. So, before we get into the chapter, I want to give a shout-out to my absolutely fantastic beta, CavyGirl1991. She caught all the stuff I missed, and she's a big part of why this chapter is up on time. So, huge thanks to her.

Disclaimer: I don't even claim rights to the tree that was cut down for the paper to publish Divergent.

* * *

Chapter Seven:

Here I am, in the Starbucks right across the street from the hospital. My mom had to sign the discharge papers before I could go, but she didn't have time to drive me home or she would be late to work. So, she asked if I could wait until second block, when caleb would pick me up during His study hall. I agreed, so long as she could take me to the Starbucks, not the one in the hospital, so I wouldn't have to sit in the hospital all day.

It's time for second block, and my brother still isn't here. I take another sip of my espresso and text him to see where in the world he's at. He probably doesn't even remember that he was supposed to pick me up.

Tris: where are you?

Caleb: at school. Where else?

Tris: you were supposed to pick me up.

Caleb: I was? Oops! Sorry! Text Christina.

I sigh, and finish off my coffee. Christina only has one block where she can pick me up, and that's her lunch period. I text her, anyways.

Tris: Does anyone have a block where they can pick me up from the Starbucks? Caleb was supposed to, but being a scatterbrain, he forgot all about it.

Christina: Try Marlene. If not her, then try Zeke.

Rolling my eyes, I log onto the group chat.

Tris: Can anyone pick me up from Starbucks?

Shauna: Why are you there? Weren't you supposed to go straight home?

Tris: Ya, but my mother didn't have time to take me home. She left me at the Starbucks, and Caleb was going to pick me up after his first block. He forgot, though.

Four: I'm free. Share your location with me.

Tris: Okay. Thanks. Sorry.

Four: It's cool. See you in a few.

Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, he pulls up in his red chevy truck. I rush out, through the rain to meet him. He opens the door for me, like a real gentlemen. I climb into it, and lean back into the seat.

"Thanks, Four. I'm gonna kill my brother when he gets home."

Four laughs, and enters my address into his GPS. I survey the city flashing by outside, remembering the first time I ever visited here, back when Gramma Lily was still alive. As if reading my mind, Four asks, "So, if you don't mind me asking, why'd you move here"0

"My grandmother lived here. The first time I came to visit is hard for me to remember. I do know I was young, before I was diagnosed. Gramma lived on this side of town, and she always pushed mom to put her foot down and make Dad quit the military. Up until her death late last year, that was her main mission; to make my father "see some sense and stop fooling around with those guns."

"You're father was military?" he asks. I nod.

"After her death, my parents had a full-out argument. Mom said that she hated that we had to move so much.

Dad finally agreed to quit, and we moved to where Gramma Lily lived. I wouldn't say it's the best story, but it's one of the only interesting things I have to talk about." My mind wonders off, back to happy memories.

Baking cookies in Gramma's kitchen. Learning how to knit. The smell of her perfume. Going to the swimming pool during the hot summer days. And, the wierdest of all, frying an egg on the sidewalk one scorching summer day.

Four's hand on my knee brings me out of my thoughts. "You okay?" He asks, putting on the brakes at a red light.

"Yeah." I say, nodding. One might wonder, judging by the twinkle in his eyes, if he really believes me; I don't think so.

"If you say so," he says, making the turn into my driveway. Have I really been in my own world that long;

He helps me out, and we walk up the steps to the door. I reach under the mat, and remove the spare key; mine is still on the hall table.

When I open the door, I'm greeted with the smell of meatloaf; eww. I've only been out of the hospital for two hours, and Mom is already trying to poison me. Thanks Mom!

"You good?" Four asks. I nod, he squeezes my shoulder, tells me to text him if I need anything, and runs off so he can make it to third block.

I close the door behind him and smile. I have a good group of friends.

I go into the living room, and flip through the movies in the cabinet. I finally unearth one worth watching; If I stay.

When the movie is over, I check the time, and get up to get some lunch; preferably not the meatloaf.

I don't find much; just a couple bags of chips, some moldy bread that looks as if it hasn't been touched since the stone ages, and a jar of glucose tablets, which, even if I am low, I don't eat because they taste like flavored chalk.

I leave a note for Mom saying that I'm going to the store and the post office to get our mail; we're getting a mailbox next week. I have to stay home from school today, so I might as well lift some of the stress off Mom's shoulders.

I drive down to the Walmart, holding Mom and Dad's list in one hand, Caleb, Shae's and mine in the other. It takes a while for me to find everything, pay for it, and get everything into the trunk, so I decide to eat something before I get too low. I grab a granola bar, test my sugar, and decide not to bolus, as my reading comes in at 80.

I put some country music on the radio as I drive, roll the windows down, the wind whipping my hair into my face.

The post office is open, and it's a good thing, we have a ton of mail. So much, in fact, that it takes me and an employee three trips each to get it all into the car.

When I get home, I unpack the groceries, make myself a sandwich, and eat it while sorting out the mail. There's a box full of pods for my insulin pump that I put into the supply cabinet, a thick stack of bills, a book order for Caleb, something Mom ordered from Amazon, and a couple of magazines for Shae. Nothing too intriguing.

Finally, at the bottom of the stack, I come across something for me. It's a large envelope with "American Diabetes Association" scrawled across the front. Mom must've ordered it for me behind my back.

I spread the pamphlets out across the floor and begin looking through them. Nothing too interesting, so I pack it all back into the Envelope, drop it on the hall table, and go back to lie on the couch.

I awake to the sound of the fire alarm blarring in my ears. I jump off the couch to find the meatloaf burning on in the oven.

I put out the fire, and settle down at the table to do some homework after opening up the windows to air out the kitchen.

I must've dozed off at the table, because the next thing I know, Mom is murmuring, "Go to bed, Tris."

I do as I'm told, and crash. I wake up only once to a voice murmuring, "Good night, sweet girl."

* * *

A/n: So, this is where I put all my excuses for not getting a chapter out on time, but I don't have any this time, so yay! I'll just gonna say in advance, happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day! See you next Saturday, February 2nd. If I don't get it up, just blow up my PMs. Alrighty, audios amigos!

Bianca.

Review responses:

Charm22: You're so very welcome! I'm working on betterment. I'm glad you liked the chapter.

6Divergent4ever: Yeah. But Mom would have my head if I broke one. Gld you're loving this story! It means a lot.

6Divergent4ever: I've never been on crutches. I have, however, broke two toes. Same toe on both feet.

QOTD shout-outs: Charms22, 6Divergent4ever

QOTD: Who's your favorite Egyptian god or goddess?

AOTD: Isis, and Horus. (I read the Kane Chronicles, and am in love. LOL)


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